Warped
by Saya-Sama
Summary: Before Toris can do anything, he must first break away, because this cannot go on. Implied Russia/Liet


**For Taure who wanted Russia/Liet during the reoccupation of Lithuania. I decided to take a different approach than usual on this one, because while Liet being afraid of Russia is perfectly canon, we've also seen how he was pretty badass in his younger years. There's no way that fighting spirit has been extinguished, yeah! And so, as I was looking stuff up for this, I ame across the existence of the Forest Brothers, and well, Liet suddenly became a partisan, fighting to free his country from Soviet rule during the second reoccupancy because he can't stand for his people to be mistreated any longer. This idea struck swiftly, and I do believe I fell in love with Liet just a bit more here... I hope you do, too.**

It doesn't matter where he is or who he's with, he's still scared out of his mind. Toris can feel himself shaking in Ivan's arms, even though they enclose him and his brothers in what is an oddly gentle, welcoming hug. It's still cold though, no matter what sort of emotion is mimicked in the embrace, it is still freezing, negative.

"It is good to have you home again, my little Baltics. Was it frightening, being kept away from home for so long?" Ivan asks, petting each of them in turn (like he's trying to sooth frightened animals, Toris thinks, but he doesn't want to ruin Ivan's good mood, not now, so he says nothing, like always).

Raivis is shaking twice as badly as he is, but nods quickly in response to the larger man's question. Eduard makes no move to respond at all; he seems to exist just below Ivan's radar, so he can get away with these things. Toris is the only one who can find it in himself to give a verbal response so he does, because Ivan is waiting for one, looking to him for some sort of answer.

"Y-yes, it's good to be ho-home again…" He hopes Ivan mistakes his stuttering as a sign of the cold, and not a sign of his sorrow at being back in this place.

000

His back is searing with pain, his skin is slick with his manifested agony that slips over his sides and pools on the ground around him. He tries to keep his muscles lax, but they seize up every time he hears the whip move through the air. It's an outdated device, he thinks sometimes, but still very effective. What has he done this time? He can hardly remember what passes for a transgression in this house anymore, it seems like everything does nowadays.

The harshness of each blow has already reached its peak, so Toris knows that the end will come soon. And he is right for not a moment later he feels cool hands on his inflamed skin instead of the bite of the whip. Ivan always takes his gloves off for this; he always needs to feel the heated wounds afterward. He's careful, so careful, almost tender in his gentleness. Toris is lifted off his knees (the movement leaves him nauseous and disoriented, though it is neither quick nor jarring), and arranged just so in Ivan's arms.

The face that was so wild and crazed just a moment before is now concerned and sorrowful; it is the look of a parent who doesn't want to punish their child but feels they must. In the same way, there is some sort of affection in those lavender eyes, but it's warped, mutated, so much so that it cannot truly be called affection at all. He can hardly even see this gentle face though, as his vision has been obscured with tears, tears that have not left him for weeks, that fall for no reason but for everything all the same.

"Oh Toris, I do not wish to harm you but you must not misbehave so…" Ivan's tone is almost mournful, like he expects the smaller man to die in his arms. He rocks Toris gently; the motion is comforting, or as comforting as it could be all things considering. He's running his hand over Toris' hair and the side of his face, too, and once again the brunette gets the distinct feeling that he's being treated like a pet.

"I love you Toris, you and your brothers. So you must stay here, where I can protect you… Don't go too far away, there are enemies in the forests and I cannot protect you when you are not here with me." Oh, yes, that was it. Toris had gone too close to the border, his actions had been misinterpreted as an escape attempt. A foolish assumption to make; he would never try to run away without his brothers.

This has to stop, Toris thinks. It has to stop because it never should've been this way to begin with. It _hadn't_ been this way in the beginning; Ivan had been sweet and sane, once. He'd let this go on, hoping Ivan would come back to himself for long enough though. It is time to stop this now, time to fix Ivan and his perspective on love and protection, because they are all messed up.

"Why do you run, Toris? When I just want to protect you…?"

His hand grips the material of Ivan's jacket as tightly as it can, he's summoning all his strength for just one sentence. His vision is fading and it won't be long now until he's unconscious, so he has to be quick.

"This is not…protection."

'_This is not love,'_ he mouths, but his voice has already died.

000

He's not going to take this any longer. His people, his dear citizens, his children, did they really deserve to be shipped off to _Siberia_? These senseless deportations, the intolerance, the unbearable weight of being under another person's control… Toris is tired of waiting for Ivan to come back to his senses, he has to fight now. He can't stand to feel it as more of his people—not even on his land, but still a part of him—die frozen and desolate in the deadly tundra.

He still can feel every single one of them, he feels their frostbite, their hunger, their dying will. He feels it so acutely, so keenly; the tears that have been falling for weeks still trace rivers down his cheeks, he now understands just why they do. They are the tears of his people and he can't stop them, can't stop them until Russia is stopped.

The three of them, his brothers and he, are shivering away in the forests as they prepare to attack the unsuspecting Soviet troops that are going to travel by today. He looks to them, thinks that Eduard is out of place on a battlefield, thinks that Raivis has no business holding a gun. He's the only one who should be fighting, but they insist on staying with him.

Because they too, felt that they could no longer go on like this. They can't allow Russia to rule over them, to keep them like servants or pets. The man's twisted affections are too damaged, unlivable. It couldn't be helped though, he'd forgotten about honest, warm, beautiful love decades ago. Toris, he'd had the chance to save him, but he just hadn't, he hadn't known what to do.

So that is why he's going to take responsibility now. He will remind Ivan of what he's forgotten in his insanity. But first, first he needs to break away and save his people.

The scars on his back throb dully, almost a warning, an omen that this will not go well. They seem to sing in pain every time he loads his gun or shouts orders. He ignores their warnings and loads his gun anyway, because this just _can't go on_.

There's a figure approaching in the distance, and behind it there are more. It must be the enemy because his comrades are with him, hidden in the wintery landscape. His target is right on time and heading his way.

He unlocks the safety.

They are closer now, nearly in range. His finger twitches over the trigger but he doesn't pull it, not yet.

He takes aim, his back burns. He tries to stave off his impatience by thinking over a phrase Alfred had told him before, one from he broke away from his ruler—_"Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes."_

The large figure is close now, seeming so much more carefree than he really is.

"You'll understand soon, what is and isn't love. I'll show you."

As his finger presses down on the trigger, he wonders for the faintest moment if it is not he whose affection is warped.

He doubts-

-Then fires off his first round anyway.

**1. The Soviet Union occupied the Baltic states from 1940-1941, lost control to Germany for a while, and then reoccupied them again in 1944-1945. **  
**2. There was a deportation campaign between 1941-1952 where hundreds of thousands of Lithuanians were deported to Siberia and other remote parts of Russia where people just shouldn't go. **  
**3. The Forest Brothers were partisans from Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia who fought against Soviet rule during both occupations. Read up on these guys, they were something.**  
**4. I've interpreted the Bloody Sunday strip as the instance where Russia goes officially insane, and have also intepreted it to mean that Lithuania had worked with Russia for some amount of time before he went insane. So if it seems like I'm implying that Ivan's yandere-ness is a new thing, it's because I sort of am. **

**I really liked the idea of Liet fighting with his people instead of just cowering in fear or taking it quietly. At the same time though, I didn't want to cast Russia as some outright villain, 'cause he isn't and all... He seems more like a horribly misguided, ridiculously strong child to me, who very dearly needs to be put back on the right path. **


End file.
